


Gimli, Son of Gloín

by mrkinch



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drabble Collection, Dwarves - Tolkien, Elves, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:15:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrkinch/pseuds/mrkinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>thirteen chronologically-arranged drabbles about Gimli</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Beginning

Dwarves are not afraid. After all, the first peril to the fathers of the Dwarves when they awoke was Mahal himself. For our maker stood over them, hammer raised, ready in penance and obedience to the One to unmake us utterly. But Iluvatar knew us and stayed his hand, and adopted our race. How do we know? Because the seven fathers who quailed beneath that undealt blow are with us still, reborn in endless line. Long ages they slept under stone, but they remember how we began. What threat can Elves or Men or Orcs offer us greater than that?


	2. An Elf as Seen by a Dwarf

_A Woodland Elf!_ Gimli grumbled to himself. Of all the Elves he saw around the great table, not that he was looking, why had Master Elrond chosen a Woodland Elf? It was true that his own father had deferred to the Wizard in the matter of the Mirkwood dungeons, but Gloín was not called to travel with this Legolas, and Gimli was uneasy. All Elves were suspect, of course, but he could give a Noldo grudging tolerance for the sake of Narvi, even an age and more past.

Though doubtless this Legolas would be a strong traveler and good fighter.


	3. A Dwarf as Seen by an Elf (Legolas)

Dwarves! Could they let nothing go? Although in truth, Elves remembered countless hurts far older, even from days in the Far West before the Sun, if the tales were true.

But Dwarves were certainly very proud and very stubborn. Yet when he looked beyond his father's grief, it had been pride and stubbornness that doomed the greater part of his grandfather's host at Dagorlad.

Unquestionably Dwarves were short.

He shook his head angrily, remembering the dreadful object of their journey and his own duty. Their ways were together and, easily or otherwise, he would find tolerance for all the Companions.


	4. Failure of Imagination

Hobbit. Burglar. He knew the words from the famous story, but there were no burglars in Dwarf halls. Still, he was not without imagination. Such a one would be quiet, of course, quick and slippery like the things in a new cave.

But his imagination had produced nothing like these young Hobbits. Far from slippery, they seemed to attach themselves to him like burrs. True, their feet were quiet, odd after journeying all his life to the companionable sound of many pairs of hobnailed boots. It was well they talked so much or he would certainly have trod upon them.


	5. Unwilling (Legolas)

Frodo yelped as he went sprawling on the riverbank. He scrambled to sit, holding his ankle and rocking a little, teeth gritted. We held our breath.

“Mr. Frodo!”

“I’m all right, Sam, just give me a moment.”

The glint amongst the rough pebbles at the water’s edge caught my gaze, and the gaze of one other. As he bent for it, a trick of the light dulled the ring and the lapping current drew in under the shingle.

Heedless, sturdy fingers scooped it up into a gloved hand. “He’ll be missing this.”

I laughed and knew it was no trick.


	6. The Dwarrowdelf

Only a Dwarf can understand stone. Trees fuel our forges and the cities of men have become our marketplaces, but these are only tools to me, not things to touch and love.

This place, now, fills me with a joy that leaves no room for breath, whose like I cannot remember. I am lost, without speech, and my eyes prickle strangely.

The unexpected silence lengthens, bringing me back to my companions with a start. I look about quickly, wary of its cause. But awe not fear has frozen them and wonder lights each upturned face.

Perhaps they understand a little.


	7. Seeing Value

Gimli scorned the uniformity of coins, a pitiable crutch for the ignorant. Only Men and Hobbits needed a guarantee of value, while Elves acknowledged the worth of nothing. A Dwarf could value any bit of precious metal to a hairsbreadth no matter its form. He had but to hold it in his hand, touch it, weigh it, look at it with a true eye.

By the time they stumbled from the disaster of Moria, Gimli needed no crutch to know the value of Men and Hobbits, even of Elves. He saw with a true eye the worth of each Companion.


	8. Art

Dwarves do not talk of art. They talk of iron and stone, and if the edge is keen and the arch strong, it is well done. Jewels make their eyes shine because they see beauty in wealth, not the reverse. When in their conversations the Elf praised an edge or arch and called it art, the Dwarf listened and considered his meaning.

The battle on the walls shifted again. Gimli took a breath, leaning on his axe to gaze beyond the heaped carcasses. His eye caught a flashing knife, thrust home again and again with perfect skill. That was art.


	9. Isengard

So this is Angrenost, wizard home, unseen compass point that guided our journeying. From the look of it our fallen comrade spoke truth. Not much to fear now, though, in this flooded ring of smokes and heaped masonry where even Hobbits take their ease. The tower, Orthanc, I have never seen that stonework's like, if stonework it is, not spell work. It is whole, deadly looking but toothless, well guarded I am told and having no free passage out or in. No more dangerous than yesternight's flood of Orcs, spawned here to fall to ax and arrow and strangest trees.


	10. Warriors

Dwarves are not always heavy footed. As at Edoras, familiar voices draw me to watch unseen as the Ranger learns another thing he had rather not. There is pain for both when he turns away.

....

"Gimli." She smiles, but the shine in her eyes is not for joy of my company. "I wonder if we shall meet again."

She would not want comforting even if I knew how, so I wink, nodding towards the horses staked beneath the cliff. "Very soon, I should think."

Startled, her keen gaze searches me, then she bends to kiss my cheek and is gone.


	11. On the Great River

After the Elven cockleshells the Corsairs' ships seemed sturdy as the Hornburg. Fortunate, because I have deeper concerns. It has been hours since the Elf laughed, teasing me, hours of hard waiting as the oarsmen, strong in their new freedom, move the fleet slowly up Anduin. I am relieved there are no birds now as there were at Pelargir. I will forget that moment no sooner than the Elf, whatever I may say.

The wind shifts, freshens. The water rushing past the prow becomes louder. The pain in my friend's fair face fades into the fierce light of approaching battle.


	12. Pippin’s Last Stand

The ups and downs of the Fellowship's long road were as nothing to the day they approached the Morannon. Deep horror in that place, fierce pride at the courage of the West, despair before the Mouth of Sauron, he felt he must go numb or mad. When over the din of impossible battle he heard the cry, "The eagles are coming!" and looked up, his heart near burst with joy. And when again he looked about him it froze hard and heavy in his chest, for he could no longer find his smallest companion. Yet the day was not over.


	13. Only Once (an Elf in the West)

Did you hear the news? A new ship has come! I did not hear whose kin it brought, for everyone I know has returned already. Indeed, they say that the only Elves remaining in the Great Lands are in forests far to the east, where they have never seen the sea and do not feel its summons. A strange ship, too, they say, like one of Círdan's but not entirely, and those who would know say it has a look of the ships of Men about it. And very small! Bearing only one. Well, two, if you count the Dwarf.


End file.
